


From Vesuvia (With Love)

by BathedInDiamonds



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, non-binary character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BathedInDiamonds/pseuds/BathedInDiamonds
Summary: The life and times of Apprentice Rasmin Jayashankar.As a magical Apprentice, a caffeine addict, an ex-Prakran naval Lieutenant, parent (long story), as well as being the partner to the Countess of Vesuvia, Rasmin has quite the anthology of stories to tell for anyone willing to listen.





	1. Character Page

**Rasmin Jayashankar**

_The reserved Magician’s Apprentice who wants nothing to do with arrogant (and pathetic) specters._

 

  * ****Favorite Food:**** Biryani


  * **Favorite Drink:** Coffee (Spiked)


  * **Favorite Flower:** Rose



 

 

**Countess Nadia Satrinava**

_The widowed Countess whose word is law._

 

  * ****Favorite Food:**** SpicedSwordfish


  * **Favorite Drink:** White Wine


  * **Favorite Flower:** Lavender



 

 

**Asra**

  _The wandering magician with a wealth of secrets._

 

  * ****Favorite Food:**** Blue **-** tongued skink


  * **Favorite Drink:** Lapsang souchong


  * **Favorite Flower:** Belladonna



 

 

**Julian Devorak**

  _The fugitive doctor who hungers for revenge._

 

  * **Favorite Food:** LobsterClaws


  * **Favorite Drink:** Black Coffee


  * **Favorite Flower:** Wolfsbane



 

 

**Portia Devorak**

_The trusted handmaiden with a penchant for snooping._

 

  * **Favorite Food:** Breadpudding


  * **Favorite Drink:** Beer


  * **Favorite Flower:** Sweet Pea




	2. Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place inside of Book IX: The Hermit, Between The Lines.

 

 “I never took you for a tea person, Rasmin.”

 

 The Countess stood in the shop proper, face and head still obscured by the raven-winged veil she donned whenever they left the palace on unofficial business. Today’s outing had been shorter than the others what with Rasmin’s need to check on the shop. The carriage, as instructed by Nadia, was hidden a mile away as to not draw any unwanted attention.

 

 Rasmin was currently elbows deep in a drawer filled with nothing but boxes and loose tea bags. Sighing, they answered, “I’m not. Asra is the tea person, but I figured you’d want something more ‘tame’ than coffee.”

 

 “I suppose that explains why you hardly drink any tea during our chess sessions.”

 

 “Actually, I’m just trying to focus. You’ve challenged me at least ten times now, and I’ve lost every game.”

 

 “Practice makes perfect, Rasmin.”

 

 Rasmin chuckled softly, then reached far into the drawer to pull out a box of unbranded black tea bags. They showed the box to Nadia, whose eyes lit up with approval, before heading to the back of the shop. They held the curtain to the side for Nadia to follow after them, and the two headed to the tiny stove that housed the Salamander.

 

 “Wasn’t this upstairs the last time we were here?” Nadia questioned as Rasmin opened the hatch and whispered to the salamander inside. Upon closing the hatch, a small fire bloomed inside, and Rasmin placed a water-filled kettle on top of the stove.

 

 “A change of scenery is always nice,” Rasmin said with a shrug. “It’s quite easy to move when it’s powersource is a friendly salamander.”

 

 As the water began to boil, Rasmin beckoned for Nadia to follow them to the table where they conducted their readings. Nadia sat and raised an eyebrow.

 

 “Are you about to read my fortune? You already did this morning, and I doubt they have much more to say to me,” She murmured.

 

 “I’m not going to read you,” Rasmin said. “I do wish to speak to you, however.”

 

 “Oh?”

 

 “Forget the search for the doctor and the plans for the masquerade for just a moment. And if you can find it in yourself to do that, then please indulge me. How have you been?” Rasmin reached across the table and rested their hands on top of Nadia’s. Their skin tone was much darker than the Countess’, though they both originated from the same place. Only those stolen bits of memory that Rasmin managed to preserve from their dreams reminded them that they’d both grown up exploring the same pearly white beaches, splashing through the same cold, clear ocean water.

 

 “How have I been?” Nadia echoed with a smile. The fingers of her right hand intertwined with Rasmin’s, and she freed her left hand to finally remove her veil. At a passing glance, one would only assume that the Countess was as perfect as ever. Healthy, glowing brown skin and shining tyrian hair adorned with jewels that could buy a man’s life and then some. But Rasmin had memorized the signs of exhaustion, and knew that there wasn’t enough makeup in the world to hide that exhaustion emitting from those striking, red eyes. “I suppose I have been better.”

 

 “Have you been sleeping? Any nightmares?”

 

 “I have been sleeping, yes.”

 

 “And the nightmares?” Rasmin pressed, rubbing their thumb along the lines inside Nadia’s palm. The Countess shivered, then nodded.

 

 “Yes, but I can’t make sense of them. I don’t know what’s wrong.” Frustration tinged her voice, and Rasmin felt the strong urge to embrace her. They settled on staying sitting down, but gave Nadia’s hand a squeeze.

 

 “Describe them for me,” They murmured. “If you feel comfortable?”

 

 Nadia’s smile was as sweet as honey. “Comfortable? There has rarely been a moment when I have felt anything less than comfortable around you.”

 

 The Countess relaxed in her seat, then sighed. “You know of my...premonitions, yes?”

 

 Rasmin nodded. Everything Nadia had confided in them had been remembered, every memory, thought, and word held onto tightly. They were afraid of forgetting. Afraid of waking up one day and not remembering. They’d even scribbled down everything they’d managed to retain, so terrified of their amnesia that they cracked open their journal every night before bed.

 

 “Sometimes, I see futures that may happen. Futures that have every possibility of happening, but can be avoided,” Nadia closed her eyes then. Rasmin found their gaze drifting to the Countess’ forehead, as though they could see the thoughts that surely swam inside. “Not all of them are good. Quite often, I see futures I wish would never come to pass.”

 

 “Like what?” Rasmin asked. A shrill whistle punctuated their question, and they excused themself to pour tea. As the fire in the stove cooled, they murmured gratitude to the Salamander before returning to the table with two chipped cups of tea. “This is sweet, so I don’t think we need sugar. Unless you’d like some..?”

 

 “This smells divine,” Nadia murmured. She lifted the cup to her lips, blew, and took a sip. Immediately, before she could catch herself, her face screwed up with what Rasmin thought was disgust. “Oh my…”

 

 “I-I didn’t think it was that bad,” Rasmin stammered, watching as Nadia placed the cup down on the table and stared at it in bewilderment. “I thought you’d like it because it was from—”

 

 “Prakra!” Nadia finished. Rasmin’s face felt heated, and they hoped to whatever Arcane being watching that their blush wasn’t noticeable. “And not the cheap kind either. This is genuine. Where did you get this?”

 

 “Ah, Asra brought it home one day,” Rasmin murmured, taking their seat. Though they were not fond of tea, they couldn’t resist the taste. It was too familiar of a taste, and they felt a tug at some, phantom recess in their mind. A memory too far out of reach for them to recover that was tied to this tea.

 

 “He does travel often, doesn’t he?” Nadia mused. “I must bring you to Prakra one day, Rasmin.”

 

 “I’ve been before,” Rasmin suddenly blurted. As they said this, some part of them reaffirmed their statement. They knew that if they were to recover the journal they’d stashed safely under their bed in the palace, they’d find an entry on it. “I think...I think I was born there.”

 

 Nadia raised an eyebrow, her intrigued, red eyes scanning Rasmin. She reached out and cupped their jaw, ignoring the blush that crept across their face in response. “I suppose I should’ve known. You’re no native Vesuvian, that’s for sure.”

 

 “Well yes,” Rasmin said, then gently pushed Nadia’s hand down. “But that doesn’t matter. What about your nightmares? What’s troubling you so bad?”

 

 Nadia let out a small sigh. “And here I was hoping that I could stall you forever.”

 

 “Me? Distracted? Never,” Rasmin murmured. “Many have tried, few have succeeded.”

 

 “Such confidence,” Nadia said into her cup. She took another sip, then placed the cup down and folded her hands in her lap. “Last night, I had what was perhaps my worst nightmare I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing. I spent the rest of the night in my contemplation tower, with Chandra.”

 

 “Your owl,” Rasmin said. They had met the beautiful (and frightening) creature’s acquaintance only yesterday, and Chandra had showed them a rather faith-shakening revelation about Portia. It was still a sensitive topic. “If I may ask, what what the dream about?”

 

 For a beat, the Countess was silent. Then, she said, “I had a dream that I failed. The palace was all grey, but the halls were covered in red beetles. There was the Masquerade, but no one was enjoying themselves. They were all gazing up in horror at a man who stood at the top of the grand staircase. It was him, Rasmin, in all of his insufferable glory.”

 

 “Count Lucio,” Rasmin said, their voice dripping with scorn. They didn’t even remember the man, and yet they hated them. To draw the ire of someone who did not even remember them alive was quite a feat. Somebody ought to congratulate him, wherever his soul rested. If it rested.

 

 “Yes, him,” Nadia said, her brow furrowing. “But I’m not scared of him. Only quite perturbed by his presence, you see. But as I left the ballroom and traveled up those beetle-covered halls, I was drawn to your room, Rasmin. And a feeling of dread began to settle within me. I knew that there was something terribly, terribly wrong before I even opened the door.”

 

 The Countess paused, and lifted the cup again. Rasmin didn’t comment on the fact that there was hardly a sip left in there. Instead, they nursed their own cup and patiently waited.

 

 “When I opened the door, your room was awash in red. And in that bed was you, but you were not yourself. You were shriveled, sickly, and weak,” Nadia’s voice wavered on the last word. “And when you opened your eyes to look at me, they were bleeding scarlet. You were in so much pain and so delirious, you hardly recognized me. You called me ‘Nazali’, and I had to correct you.”

 

 Nazali. Rasmin wracked their brain for a face to match that name. When nothing came up, Nadia substituted for them. “My sister, one of my older ones. When I told you who I was, you smiled, but you wouldn’t look at me any longer. I don’t even think you could even see me. I called out for you so many times, Rasmin, but you never answered. And then he came.”

 

 They didn’t even need to ask who ‘he’ was.

 

 “And he taunted me, as he always does. But then he turned to you and said, ‘Good. Now they’re finally back where they belong. Isn’t that right, Noddy?’”

 

 She fell into silence then, her fingernail tapping against the empty tea cup. For a moment, they both sat in silence, with the only sound in the room being the soft crackling of cooling charcoal from the stove. When the silence grew oppressive, Rasmin spoke.

 

 “No matter what happens, Nadia, you know I’d never leave you,” They murmured. The Countess hummed in response. “I don’t believe in fate...but I know that being by your side is where I belong. Damn the Count.”

 

 This time, Nadia smiled. “It comforts me to hear you say so much, Rasmin. But this was no ordinary nightmare, as you know. It was a future that may come to pass.”

 

 “So then we must do everything in our power to see that it remains nothing more than a possibility. Maybe even less,” Rasmin said. Finishing the last of their now cooled tea, they rose from the table and reached for Nadia’s hand. The Countess received them, rising gracefully and following them to the front of the shop. “I’m sure Asra won’t mind cleaning up for once.”

 

 “You’ve so much faith in your Master.”

 

 “He doesn’t tell me anything about where he’s going or when he’ll be back, so I’m afraid that I have no choice but to be faithful,” Rasmin replied.

 

 “I like that about you,” Nadia murmured. She paused and pulled her veil back up, sensing Rasmin’s intention of leaving. With a small sigh, she allowed Rasmin to lead her outside.

 

 Outside, the afternoon Vesuvian air was hot and humid, but neither of them seemed to mind. Rasmin locked the door and, after a moment’s hesitation, cast the same protection spell that briefly lit up the door.

 

 “A protection spell?” The Countess asked as Rasmin finished casting.

 

 “I truly have nothing of value, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful,” Rasmin explained. “I, uh, I cast the same spell on my room door in the palace.”

 

 “Oh? I rescind my comment about you having a lot of faith. You hardly trust me!” Nadia exclaimed, her words punctuated with false hurt.

 

 “If it makes you feel better, I rarely cast it now. I do spend most nights in your room now, Nadia.”

 

“Ah, that is true.”

 

 “So I suppose I’ll cast it on your door tonight,” Rasmin finished. “Just to be safe.”

 

 “The palace has over a thousand guards and you’d rather cast a protection spell.”

 

 “....yes.”

 

 Nadia laughed as Rasmin’s face darkened with blush. Shaking their head, Rasmin hurried back to the carriage, well aware of The Countess’ continued amusement. But that wasn’t a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, constructive criticism, and kudos are always welcome! I hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
